Just Don't Curse

She asked me if I wanted to move in with her. 

Move in with her

She asked me when I wanted to get married.

Getting married, getting married

She asked me if I wanted to have kids. 

Having kids, having kids, having kids

She wanted me to move in with her by September, get married in January, and have a kid or two on our honeymoon in Madrid. Two weeks after our my "Last of Us 2" party with Dee, Skeeter, and Skeeter's brother in an Applebee's. So I turned and did a whimsical glance to her forehead. And this is what I asked her in an unforgiving tone:

Why is my momma's cookin'  so tasty and delicious and everything yo' momma makes smells and tastes like chitlins and old collard greens,

Why y'all keep making slave biopics but won't feed my mule (ya' momma is the mule),

Why don't you support my dreams even though my dream is to have a dream about a dream,

Why is it weird to be normal but not normal to weird,

Why are people not as obsessed with their own self, there's so many cool things about you, 

Why did I run over 1,000 miles this year, just to always end back up at the same place I started,

Why can't I love myself like how Kanye Love Kanye,

Why is Chris Brown unable to function as decent human being,

Why do people eat grits when you can eat real, edible food for breakfast,

Why do people take out their earphones but still don't listen,

Why are people not allowed to get their fingernails painted and cry if they have a penis,

Why don't you got my back like Heromine had Harry's, Drake had Josh's, or Jim Carrey had Jim Carrey's,

Why use lots word when few words do trick,

Why do flies like the smell of poop,

Why are there always flies when I sit beside you while you watch "Big Bang Theory",

Why do you watch "Big Bang Theory",

Why does no one care about cornbread unless it's gentrified, 

Why do rappers lie in 85% of they rhymes,

And how come whenever you visit my momma, you always cursin'?

Why would I want to have a kid with you when I barely see you as it is, on any plane of existence, and I don't think a kid wants to smell like fish all their entire life.

And I was thinking about how can I have a bachelor part y if I am not getting married to you in January or February. Nor march. Nor the 21st night or day of September. 

And I am not moving in with you because your favorite artist is Jason Derulo. 

No one listens to Jason Derulo.

Blood On The Asics

Random thought: 

When I first created this blog, it was meant to be "an inspirational, motivational, moving masterpiece" of triumph and glee about running and exercising. Almost like "here's how to become a newer, more beautiful you; all you have to do is get on the treadmill!" headass, 

That was the whole concept of making a blog about running. Discuss running. Running has been one of my favorite things in the whole wide word. But me making a running blog is like asking Dennis Rodman to take off of of his piercings and not wear wedding dresses. Well let me explain:

Jamal and I have had numerous swapping of ideas that include err-thang; ranging from the those's to the that's and the what's. But one of the more awe-inspiring conversations have been of  the super radical notion "people never change" which I have always believed in, especially from Jay-Z's quote 'you can try to change but that's just the top layer, you was who you was before you got here' which has never left my noggin. Ever. And I'm paraphrasing.

By nature I am a compulsive, excessive Jonny, which someone may see from my running (I have ran 1,500 miles this year), costumes (I have over 7 full costumes and 8 wigs over the past 4 years), and whatever hieroglyphics one must decipher after reading my posts. And I think back to my youth, if I was the same spazzy, greedy kid in grade school. I can definitely remember me going out to run before the bus came to get me in middle school and building a basketball collection of over 2,000 cards and memorizing everyone's stats from '99-'07(yes, I sold it for $75 a year later to buy a Nintendo DS Lite).

So did I change at all? Do any of us change at all from childhood to adulthood to death-hood? Hmph.

I don't think I changed. I would say I mostly evolved or re-loaded. 

Figuring out in my early 20s that this is going to be me forever was a positive thing. For example, when I NEED something to be successful (the more assertive form of 'want') I will go out and get it. I knew I needed to pass the SATs so my go-lucky tail took it again two weeks later in high school and got a qualifying score to get into college; when I had hip pains a few years ago, I tried every doing yoga twice a day, 5 times a week and soaking in Epsom until I grew gills to alleviate the pain.

Reckon the thing is that you don't have to completely hack away your negative traits and throw them into a dumpster. Magikarp evolves into Garados, still the same basic water Pokemon. Just realize MAYBE that your traits you think or dope/not dope may lead you to being a serial killer or a wall street investor. Both the same thing, right? Just take your weaknesses and turn them to unique-esses. I totally stole that from a Rhett & Link video.

Yesterday's Fresh Grits

I think grits are overrated. It's just small pieces of cornmeal.

When Momma Mona cooked and fed it to me, I thought she had mistakenly given me raccoon food.

I thought "how could you make me eat this mother, why are you trying to poison your favorite son" I cried

I thought black boys who cry too much are too sweet but someone's son is in eternal slumber because someone THOUGHT they were too sour

I still think the confederate flag is racist and got boy my Till kill't. I used to go fishing at that river

I thought the water would save me but my eyes are still burning

I thought I was supposed to look up to my heroes but I'm like 6'7 in heels

I thought I could strut down the runway like Beyoncé and Vince McMahon

I think grits are overrated. It's just really tiny, small pieces of cornmeal. I honestly thought grits were grounded up horse hooves.

I don't know why rappers keep saying Tyler Perry is too sweet when he got ya' folks out of the unemployment line

I think black girl's thighs are so thick because they help carry black men like they are on the cast of 'Living Single'

I think you can go to church every Sunday and still have a therapist

I think it's funny to call white people mayonnaise or mayonnaise with olive oil if they coe from Italy or Spain.

I think it's okay to rap-a-long to Chief Keef on your morning commute to your 9-5

I think it's okay to be faithful and not be a Christian

I thunk, thinked, or thought we were supposed to arrest R. Kelly and boycott him but also arrest anyone who doesn't think '90s R & B is the best genre of music ever

I still think ramen noodles, lottery tickets, and Lucky Charms crippled the black community and my voice sounds like I make water casserole and my voice sounds like I ask little black boys if they live in this neighborhood and my voice sounds like I roll my windows up through an un-gentrified neighborhood but I love gentrified cornbread

And I'm still wondering if you gon' eat yo' cornbread

And I'm still wondering why people love kombucha so much it's just unflavored vinegar with bubbles

And I'm still wondering why people make me feel bad for not watching slave biopics

And I'm still wondering when Ari Lennox is going to reply back to DM

And, and, and--

And I still think grits are overrated. It's just really tiny small, itty bitty pieces of cornmeal. But I had put sugar and honey in them, it tasted okay. I would dot the sugar and make the eyes and the nose. I would drizzle the honey over it, capping off the mouth. And I would make it a picture of your smile, just like it was yesterday.

When you bring me out, can you introduce me as JODY

You asked me to tell you a story about what I know 

Stories about how to make cornbread moist and why I Listen to chief keef on the way to teach 12 years about ecology 

Well...

I know I never forgave you for stealing my lunchables from the 1st grade, 

I know I’m still half Black, half licorice 

I know her tinder profile said she is a mother of 4, But told her I’ll book the sitter since I already bought the 2 for $20 from Ruby Tuesdays 

I know I’m like Ye’; wish I could run across a beach and jump into my own arms,

I know I have a shade a field nigger, but where’s the sunscreen because I’m still not trying to get skin cancer 

I know I’m cut from elastic, long built like Mr. Fantastic 

I know tall Ethiopian women rule the world through tibs, honey wine, and coffee

I know niggas don’t give a fuck on what street I stay on,

I know I still giggle every time I say penis or doo-doo, 

I know the worth of 3 dollars and 6 dimes, call it knowledge, wisdom, and gumption

I know my momma and auntie worried about me but that’s why I keep sage, cocoa butter, and an Acts of Faith comp in a bedazzled Fanny pack 

I know my seat don’t roll back, 

I know the next shade of my skin isn’t black, it’s purple and that’s royalty 

I know Renny & Smiley love me, 

I know Jonny, Jon, and JODY still love me,

I know hugs from old black ladies who call me suga’ is the closest thing I’ll be to heaven on earth 

I know I cry too much for a heterosexual cis educated black man who grew up in the south. Air Bud is just a great movie 

I know I want to be a superhero and I just want my dog back

I know that players is quitters, JODY is Jon, I have more love than Jonny Bravos love for his mom, and gentrified cornbread is bomb

I Love You, Morris Brown

"Sometimes you gotta' move backward to go forward"

I wish I didn't remember that quote from a Lincoln car commercial but here we are in Decatur, Georgia. Me, you, and a shirtless Matthew McConaughey driving along some parkway listening to "Morris Brown" by Outkast.

I'm back in the south right now and I'm content yet flabbergasted. It was 2 weeks ago when I was pacing back and forth, irritated by own presence in a space. The Jons out of control, bacon was burnt like Michael Blackson, called sick out of work (ironic I actually had a bad case of diarrhea but intended on going to work anyways), and the rare instance of my palms being sweaty (mom's spaghetti).

I knew what was up; the same symptoms that came about in my exit from Norfolk. But here I was, trying to hold on to something that I loved but it was all lubed up, like a thing that excessively gets lubed up.

The Bundles of Jon could act out a 2-hour choreopoem, write a whole manuscript, conjure up a dissertation with works cited on why it was time to end my lease, job, and tenure from Colorado. I personally couldn't explain it using crayons and speaking perfect English in a one-on-one therapy session. I do think Jon could put it in the intuition category or some sort of primordial feeling.

Same urge when I moved from Milledgeville, Georgia immediately after college; Norfolk, Virginia after my break-up; and Denver, Colorado after my hiatus from teaching. But hey, I loved Colorado; my doggies, brunches, yoga, running, all of that jazz.

I told people every reason for the sudden leave. Too expensive, lack of emotional support, lack of good paying jobs (main indicator), etc.

Quite honestly I was also sad for multiple reasons. For all of those reasons and more. It is unfortunate I wasted a lot of people's time but my friend and family support in Georgia is unmatched. It's too overwhelming and consistent for me. My expectations for people are exceedingly high because they set the bar at that level. Vehicles have transported me to dozens of states and my legs have ran thousands of miles, I have met some folks and stayed in some places. And where did that lead me?

Back here,

Reckon I am upset because I thought I could build something out of some Popsicle sticks and crazy glue in Denver. Maybe some sort of infrastructure was manifested during my stay in the Rockies but not how I planned after two years. There is also the impatient piece; could be me not being diligent with the process of attaining (best) friends, high paying side gigs, and inner/outer peace. Which is what it came down too. Who knows the Greater Metro area of Atlanta may give me the same result. But at least my auntie and momma out here.

Of course they money aspect; if I stayed here any longer the money would literally be evaporated. And the hiatus from teaching had overcame all of my emotions. The luster of Denver had worn off like every other place I had lived. And it was time to make a decision even though it could have came earlier with jobs and my lease being up in May. All of that stuff is not difficult to handle. My friend did ask how was it being homeless and unemployed, which I believed that to be a huge slap in the face to everyone I know. No one is going to let me end of being homeless and penniless in Georgia, that would only happen on my own accord.

But I am motivated, a little nauseated and dizzy, hopeful. I will get back into teaching, pay off this substantial credit card debt, teach yoga at a studio, find some freggin' zen, and continue to make dope dancing videos.  Definitely a bump in the road but I know some folks who work for GDOT. It is time to build here for a little while and I am ready. If not, then I only got three words...

Somebody Gotta’Love The Spiritual Immaculate Hoodrats

Oh yes, absolutely. Here comes Jonny with some rhymes about some mild insecurities, infatuation with fat booties, and night runs around the city.

Oh real quick, as I mentioned before, my love language includes but ain’t limited to double gin & tonics, Running 10ks, and cosplays. Cool let me start my ramble,

I’m probably here to talk about how people have gentrified cornbread or how much I miss my momma’s sweet, SWEET cocoa butter kisses on my left cheek,

I did slip on a banana peel like I was an extra in an infomercial, I’m sure every actor/actress is an extra on informercials. Grabbed every invisible ropes I couldn’t 

Find. No wonder no one rarely finishes rainbow road. 

Uh, I kissed a boy 👨‍❤️‍👨

Nah, I ain’t like it 🙅🏾‍♂️

Well, I still hate Jordan Howard and when my dad cries.

Still gotta’ fetish for the spiritual hoodrat immaculate ratchets, but only when they don’t receive child support 

And known to tell other people’s kids to stop acting up in Public settings 

But I have to remind you that I was the Last Black Superhero in Willacoochee & Arvada, 

I’m still dropping science whilst others drop English,

I heard the call and culled the heard, paid the piper, pied the payers, became the player, but Chance said players are quitters 

And the bat signal doesn’t show up when the sky is clear but I’m pretty sure Woburn and Flint’s water supply is still burning,

And the dog is dead, the girl is gone, the chicken is unseasoned, and I’m sitting off of 16th and Colfax with my brother. Wondering why he always has mayonnaise on his lips. 

If I say I don’t give a shit, I give 100% of the shits.

And if I ever told you I love you, 

And if I save a love you, I do. I do, I do-oooo-ooooo. 

If I say I don’t I love you, I don’t.

And I believe in you, and you, and you. But not you.

And I believe in Jonny.

I Believe in The Pop, The Lock, AND The Drop

Dirty Shawn Bradley’s, the cracked screen of a MP3 player, and my mom’s flimsy headphones. 

Stretch the thighs, hamstrings, shoulders, lower back, fingers, neck, biceps, triceps, and most importantly your spiritual animal.

Flip through Outkast, Dangerdoom, N.E.R.D., Yeezy, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, & start with Young H.O.V. to get started. Wait for Ms. Storm’s menacing scowl and short strides to pass by.

Start.

Up Twin Cedars, right on Twin Cliff, loop around Cedar Cliff, down to Stoney Parkway, up Greyfield, wrap around Wraywood to Old Happy Hill to come back. Negative splits so high schoolers don’t mock your efforts.

Right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left.

Pump your arms, relax your double-jointed hands, caress the chest, evenly breathe from your diaphragm, strike the ground more, lower your forehead; your body is synchronized and one with the infinite, whatever that means. 

T.R.O.Y. starts to play as I loop back around, my second wind keeps my pace honest but my hand-me-down baggy clothing exposes my left shoulder. The saxophone medley makes my heart sink, and I phase out of this world. Into a sort of ignorant bliss.

Have you seen it? It is truly spectacular. The spectacle of a vista in the tundra could not compare. The eternal sunshine of the spotless mind if only for a fraction, a millisecond. The deciduous trees reach out to bid me a greeting to an elevated space, to feel every cell in my body to work as a whole system. Complete synchronization.

Goofy grin on my face, middle school composure, ashy kneecaps, arms flailing carelessly, headphones keep falling off, half a mile left, 30 minutes until my bus arrives at Foxwood. 

Chris Diamond, acne-prone 16 year-old, 4th string quarterback, 1st string white trash. I initiate an euphoric wave to the hormonal group of teenagers, showered by routine calls of “faggot.”

Right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left.